Advent of an Executive
by Nocturne of Eclipse
Summary: Follow Lambda's journey through Team Rocket, from lowly trainee all the way to his days as Executive Petrel, as he struggles to find his place in an organization where your best friends are just as likely to slit your throat as your worst enemies. Prequel to STKF. Lambda/OC, eventual Olympicshipping.
1. Lambda

Advent of an Executive

Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokémon franchise or any related characters. Yes, that does make me cry myself to sleep more nights than are likely healthy.

It was dark, and he could barely see two feet ahead of him. His heart was pounding away in his ears, his breath coming in short gasps—it felt like he had been running for _hours_, and he wouldn't have been surprised in the least if that had been truly the case. They did so love to force him to his limits; in return, he loved to destroy every preconceived notion any of them had ever built of him, keep them on their toes. If they insisted on forcing him into such mundane exercises, he would force them to rethink their entire game when he broke it beyond all recognition. To be honest, he didn't know what they got out of any of this. They called them tests, trials, exams, they said they were trying to measure his ability to think critically, his physical prowess. They said this job wasn't for everyone, and they had to be sure. He _knew_ he was at the top of his class, he knew that _they_ knew he could dominate any of his peers at any given contest by a _landslide_. What he didn't understand was why they wouldn't just fucking _acknowledge_ the fact, already, why he had to keep_ doing_ this stupid shit. All it proved was that he could out-think even his superiors without so much as double-take.

He'd run this particular maze, before. It wasn't large by any means, but it was tedious, and filled with puzzles that required completion before he could proceed. It seemed to be a favorite of theirs, as he found himself within the maze's depths at least once every few weeks. He'd already learned the path out _years _ago, and the only thing they changed were the number and locations of the puzzles. (They also claimed to change their difficulty, but he had yet to be impressed.) In fact, the only interesting thing they seemed to have done this time was have him run the maze in the dark, and while at first it had been mildly disorientating, his vision had quickly adjusted; nothing was different. Just backwards. They had made a huge, _terrible_ mistake. The first puzzle had been simple, a game that required him to fill in the rest of the pattern but only displayed in nonsensical symbols. The first time they had given him that puzzle, it had taken him a little under five minutes to complete. The second time, three. This time, he was bored with the game, and so he wrenched the panel on the front of the machine off with his pocket knife (the one instrument they were allowed to bring with them) and knelt, straining his eyes in the dark to make sense of the wires within. It was a predictably short time before he was busy slicing and crossing the wires, mismatching colors in a way that could only seem random but was entirely natural, and not long after, the door _wooshed _open to allow him passage.

Without waiting, he charged straight ahead. First a right, then two lefts. A wall. To any of his peers, a dead end. To himself, a little secret that he discovered several weeks back, when he had entered with no eyes on him. There were plenty of these all over the maze, mostly because they had to change the layout _somehow_, and partially because it made it easier to attend to any wounded within its confines; some of the puzzles they had to face were a bit on the dangerous side. Some of their _peers_ were a bit on the dangerous side. Their pocket knives weren't to be used as tools; they were for defense. The trick panels were really a convenience, in that sense. Placing his hand just so at the edge, he worked his fingers over it until he felt a groove, and then with a grunt, lifted the wall by a fraction of an inch, just enough to wedge the toe of his boot underneath. From there, it was simple: the panel just rotated in either direction, and though it was _supposed_ to be magnetically locked, he managed to turn it long enough to slip right through the narrow gap. Sometimes there were benefits to being a beanpole.

Smirking to himself, he let go and watched for a moment as the panel swung back into place and clicked into position. That was half of the maze skipped. Bounding leaps led him away from his shortcut and back towards the exit, stopping along the way for only two more puzzles; one, basically _The Last Crusade_, had him stepping across a series of letters that he had to determine from what was literally _just_ a Vigenère cipher, which he not only cracked in less time than it took him to read the funnies, but also then used to write a rather disparaging message about the proctor's mother, before dancing his way across as though he were a prince at an elegant ball; the second was little more than a game of _Simon Says_, but with geometric shapes flashing on buttons in a gradually increasing pattern that he managed to break by pushing the wrong buttons in the right sequence, forcing a backdoor override that opened the door without him spending longer than two minutes at its face. Then it was a final left and a straight through the intersection, and one last puzzle- he had to hack the card swipe on the door, having had to skip the portion of the maze in which he would receive his passage out. That one was a little more tricky, as it was difficult to see the wires inside with the light shining in from the glass door out, but after nearly five minutes of solid work, the lock clicked open, and he stepped out of the darkness and back into the light.

"Next time," he said as he reentered the briefing room, "maybe you should blind-fold me." His proctor looked less than enthused.

"Lambda," he said in a tone that seemed patient, but dripped with irritation, "what did I tell you about tampering with the equipment?" The boy, Lambda, shrugged one shoulder in what he hoped was some semblance of caring, because he really, _really_ didn't.

"And what have I told you dumbasses about shoving me in that _stupid_ maze?" he replied, "Christ, you people didn't even change the puzzles! I'm glad the cipher is randomized each time, because other than that, this is a fucking cake-walk! What happened to this supposing to be a _challenge?_"

His proctor pursed his lips and scribbled something on his clipboard that Lambda could only imagine- 'shows no regard for superiors, 500% asshole confirmed' was what immediately came to mind-and pointed towards the benches in the back of the room. Lambda sat without any fuss, kicking back and stretching out with his hands folded comfortable behind his head. This was always the worst part of their tests; the waiting afterwards. His peers always took _far_ too long for his tastes, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why they put up with this sort of humiliation. They weren't _lab rattata_, and to be treated as such disgusted Lambda to a level he couldn't quite explain. The others didn't seem to see it, that way. They began filing in nearly ten minutes later one-by-one, taking their usual seats and laughing and teasing each other over fights, boasting about their times. None of them ever spared Lambda a single glance, or if they did, it was disgruntled, disapproving. _Cheater_, he could hear them mutter to each other, _surely his scores won't be counted_. _Surely they won't let him continue his training. _They said it every time. By now, he had learned to tune them out. They were just jealous, Lambda would tell himself. They were angry they couldn't match his intellect.

The sixth boy to enter found Lambda scowling at the ceiling, and with a dramatic roll of his hazel eyes, took the unoccupied seat next to him, stretching out just the same. "I see you made it out early, again," the boy greeted nonchalantly. Lambda didn't reply. The boy turned his attention to his hand, peeling off his glove to idly inspect his fingernails. "I'd have thought by now you would learn to stop pissing off the proctors. You know they'd fail you if they didn't have to worry about your dad." Still, Lambda remained silent, and the boy sighed heavily before leaning over to poke Lambda in the side. "Hey," he said, "are you mad at me or something?"

"..._No_," Lambda finally replied, and the boy grinned, wide and dazzling. It was the grin that made every day worth it, to Lambda, the grin he strove to see whenever he could. The boy sitting next to him was smaller than him, with soft skin and auburn hair the likes of which Lambda had never seen, before. Alexander was his name-Alexander Strauss. He had lived across from Lambda for almost as long as he could remember, and was the only friend he ever had. Most of his days were spent in Alex's company, something that was made infinitely simple by the fact that the both of them were in the same age group and shared all of their classes. Rarely would one be seen without the other, and rarely would Lambda even want to be seen without Alex. He was the only one among his peers who wouldn't jeer at him, the only one who could handle his pure, unadulterated genius, and for that, Lambda was always thankful. Friends were hard to come by in Team Rocket, it seemed.

Time passed, and soon the rest of the trainees filed out of the maze and into the waiting room, most, if not all of them, looking rather disgruntled when they found the card swipe at the door once again busted, and plenty of them shot Lambda dirty glares as they took their usual seats and went to chatter aimlessly with their friends. Once all twenty-four seats were finally taken, the proctor turned from his monitors and machinery to address them all, looking just as weary as usual.

"Congratulations," he said in monotone, "you've yet again completed a maze. As most of you are aware, there was yet again tampering with the course." Twenty-three sour gazes turned on Lambda, but he merely ignored them in favor of braiding Alex's hair. "Though the tampering was surprisingly minor, this run, unfortunately, two of the puzzles were outright broken before the majority of you could get to them. For that reason, your scores this trial period are going to be thrown out, entirely."

"Oh my fucking Arceus! Are you serious?!" a girl about halfway down the line snapped. "It was two puzzles! Just two! Don't force us to do this again because Lambda was too cool to do it right!" The trainees around her began murmuring to each other, and Lambda could hear their sounds of agreement. "Just let us have our times and throw his out, I am fucking sick of this maze!"

"Rules are rules," the proctor replied grudgingly, "and the rules are, if Lambda screws it up, you all get fucked. Go on, all of you. Class is over for the day, take a break. I'll try and get maintenance to fix everything by tomorrow so we can finally get this over with." The group groaned in collective, and with much complaining and whining, they began to stand and file out of the room. Lambda couldn't help but smirk as he followed Alex towards the door, bringing up the rear; another successful attempt at ruining the days of every single one of his peers, and he couldn't feel better about himself. It was satisfying to see people squirm. Just as Lambda was about to step out the door, however, a hand clamped vice-like around his bicep, and immediately, he stopped in his tracks. _Oh_. The proctor didn't exactly look happy with him. "Lambda," the man said, a cold fury behind his words, "get your _shit_ together. If you keep fucking up like this, _daddy_ isn't going to be able to help you." For a good second, Lambda merely frowned, brow furrowed, at the man. Slowly, the smirk made its way back to his face.

"Are you going to be the one to explain to Boss that the kid of one of his star trainers got kicked out of training for being too damn smart?" he replied. The proctor didn't reply, and Lambda resisted the urge to laugh out loud. "I thought so," he continued, "you people better find something better than a fucking _maze_ if you want me to play by the rules. Now let go of me before I go cry pedophile." The proctor's jaw clenched and his grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he grudgingly released him, and with a mock-salute, Lambda strode purposefully out of the room and down the hall to catch up with Alex. _Boring_, he thought as he joked and laughed with his friend, _boring, boring, boring_. Life was so _boring_, and if all Team Rocket had to offer him was class and tests, honestly, he would probably have more fun breaking out and keeping on the run from the organization and Interpol, both. Thankfully, that wasn't all Team Rocket had to offer him; after all, Team Rocket had Alex, and Lambda was certain he would never find a friend as good as him anywhere else. The auburn-haired boy was certainly one of a kind.

"Let's eat outside, today," Alex was saying as he led Lambda through the halls and towards the elevator, the usual energetic bounce to his step, "I was up late cramming ciphers last night, so Mom packed my lunch. I have an extra pack of gushers!" Lambda didn't say much, as was his way, but nodded agreeably; usually when Mrs. Strauss packed extra gushers, that meant extra of _everything. _She was a kind woman, quick to pamper and slow to anger, and what was more, she was a high-ranking field agent, the same as Mr. Strauss, putting Alex more or less in the same boat as Lambda, with his father. All three were revered in their small base as quintessential Rockets. To be honest, it was a lot to try and live up to, most days. Alex continued to chatter as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor, and as usual, Lambda quietly gave his own input from time to time during the short pauses the auburn boy took to breathe. Soon enough they were out on the grounds, heading towards their usual spot by the wall, just under a large, shady tree and next to a rather large pond.

"You were slow, today," Lambda said as Alex dove into his lunchbag and passed him a sandwich, "you came in sixth. You're usually in right behind me."

"_You_ usually cheat," Alex pointed out, "I would be in first if you would stop avoiding the whole stupid maze."

"Either way, you never come out below the top three. You're smart. And fast." Awkwardly, Lambda sat and unwrapped his sandwich, taking a bite out of it to have something to do. Alex never answered him. They ate in silence, leaning back against the tree and watching Rockets bustle back and forth between buildings. The base was small; maybe a couple hundred people total, enough to run the facilities and work the land without arousing suspicion.

The base itself had been built as part of an experiment to see if it was a viable option for Team Rocket to become self-sustaining, and so the grounds consisted of far more than the four buildings and the wall that surrounded them; in fact, their property included a lot of the farmland on the outskirts of town, and many of the Rockets who lived on-base were mere laborers that tended to crops and livestock. Lambda wasn't sure if it was worth a damn, but at the very least, their food was organic-no corners were cut, there. Of course, being an experimental base, sometimes things would develop that no one would ever expect. Years ago, that had been the advent of the best-and smallest- espionage department in Team Rocket history. Spies, assassins, and spec ops alike seemed to be in high demand, and the agents who were best at the trade had all inevitably ended up here, where the highest concentration of Rocket-born grunts lived. Of course, it _just so happened_ that a lot of second-generation Rockets (that was, those born to Rocket parents) were highly gifted and highly ruthless, something the Espionage department prized above all else. A program was developed specifically for these second-generation Rockets, and it was both immensely difficult to get in and _pass_. If Lambda had heard correctly, only about four to six trainees graduated to work full-time in the Espionage department every few years. The rest either ended up in a different job or... well... _died_. Competition was fierce, after all.

Lambda was determined to be one of the few that made it, right alongside Alex. That wouldn't happen if Alex refused to tell him when things were going wrong.

"What slowed you down?" he pressed once more, and Alex scowled, pointedly turning his gaze towards the pond. "Was it one of the others?" A moment longer, and finally his friend stopped trying to ignore him.

"There was a trap," Alex said quietly, "I thought I had disarmed it. I _did_ disarm it. It was easy, just flipped a switch on the sensor, but then I actually had to run _past _it and that _asshole_ Joni..." _Joni_. Lambda felt the anger begin to bubble up in his chest. Joni was a total _dick_, and for whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy picking on Alex out of everyone in their class, and though it was tame when they were six or seven, now that they were barely fifteen, it became downright cruel and violent. Lambda hated Joni with nearly every fiber of his being. Joni would not be one of the ones to graduate into the espionage department, of that Lambda would make certain.

"What did he do?" he asked, seething. Alex clenched his teeth and turned back to the pond.

"He reactivated it right before I ran under. Electrified netting. Fifty thousand volts straight into me. I was down for a while." Oh, Lambda was going to _murder Joni in his sleep_. Still, Alex seemed largely okay, and though Lambda could only imagine the pain his friend must have felt, he seemed to have shaken it off, well enough. There didn't seem to be any pressing cause to worry, and at the moment, that was good enough, for him.

"Damn," he said after swallowing a rather large bite, "that's gotta sting. Next time I'll hang back with you, make sure he doesn't try and pull bullshit like that, again."

"No, no," Alex dismissed the idea with an off-handed wave, "I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, Lambda, I can look after myself." His confidence was something Lambda had always admired. On the other hand, it could have also been glaring stupidity, and that was something he did not admire whatsoever. Regardless of what Alexander wanted, Lambda was going to trail him during the retake. His friend wasn't going to get electrocuted twice in the same maze if he had anything to do with it. Eventually, they finished their lunch, and though Alex invited Lambda to hang around with him in town for a while, Lambda had to unfortunately decline; his father was going to be expecting his results, and if he was late, there was going to be hell to pay. It was there they parted ways, for the day, Alex to catch a ride to Celadon, and Lambda into the housing complex and up to the fourth floor.

It was quiet, when he entered; his little brother was likely still at his training, though his father was sitting on the couch in the den, pouring over tedious amounts of paperwork. Lambda honestly never understood why his father, a personal trainer, had to deal with so much in the way of admin, though his father did assure him it was actually very important work. His father was average of height and stocky of build, with large muscles built from years of training, yet another aspect of his father to try and live up to. Lambda himself was scrawny and already nearly surpassing him in terms of height. Where his father's features were blunt and wide, Lambda's were narrow and sharp. His father's eyes were a hardened brown, while Lambda's were black as the void. In fact, the only feature Lambda found himself sharing with his father was their lavender-colored hair and deep olive skin. Sometimes Lambda didn't mind that he looked so different from his father. Most of the time, he wished so desperately he did.

"Bampás, I'm home," Lambda called out as he removed his shoes by the doorway.

"Welcome back," his father greeted, eyes never leaving his papers, "your proctor called me maybe half an hour ago. Haven't we had this conversation, before?" Ah. Busted. To be honest, Lambda had more or less been expecting this confrontation, but in his mind the belt had been laying on the coffee table before he even got in; considering his father's belt was still securely around his waist and no other belt was in the immediate vicinity, however, Lambda was going to take a bit of a leap, there, and say he was still in the green.

"They put us through the same maze three months in a row," he answered, "I got bored."

"You could have opted out."

"If I opt out, they don't give me my points."

"He didn't give you points today, anyways. There's a time and place for everything, Lambda, but you can't just act outside of a test's parameters." Lambda groaned and slouched over, a look of desperation crossing his features.

"Can't you talk to them for me?" he whined, "nothing I say gets through their dumbass heads. I want a _challenge_, not a _Vigenère cipher._" His father finally raised his head, brow furrowed in annoyance as he shot Lambda a warning look.

"What the _fuck_ is that even?" his father deadpanned, and seeing Lambda opening his mouth to answer, quickly cut him off. "No, _no_, I don't _want_ to know. That's shit you espionage kids have to deal with, not me. Now stand the fuck up straight and keep your mouth _shut_ if all you're going to do is whine."

"_Bampás-_"

"_Don't_." A disparaged huff, and Lambda drew himself back up, earning a small nod of approval once he had done so. "Good. Go take out the trash, then you can get back to your studies. I brought you a new textbook, today, I want to see you in chapter five by the end of the week."

"Yes, sir." Obediently, Lambda made his way into the kitchen and set about changing the garbage liner before heading back towards the door with a full bag clenched in his hand.

"Lambda?" his father called just before he could step back out.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll see what I can do about getting you into a higher test, next month." Slowly, Lambda grinned.

Maybe there was something interesting left for him in Team Rocket, after all.


	2. Lesson

**Disclaimer: Do you ever feel like a disclaimer blowing in the wind ready to start again?**

* * *

Lambda was exhausted. He'd spent the entire night with his nose in his new book, much to his little brother's chagrin. He supposed Bampás had thought he was challenging him by asking him to complete the first five chapters before the weekend, but if Lambda was anything, it was thirsty, greedy for knowledge, and if that meant he was going to speed through four chapters of a Latin textbook in one night, then speed through it he would. When Lambda was a child and living in a small Rocket outpost in Russia, the adults had always seemed astounded by how quickly he learned, how easily everything stuck- of course, back then he was just learning words, learning to read and do simple mathematics. Then Bampás left for Kanto and brought Lambda with him, and there had been tests, odd tests that hadn't seemed in any way significant at the time. It was after that Bampás started throwing around "genius" and boasting about Lambda's IQ to anyone who would listen. Lambda's schooling had gotten a lot more difficult, then. He'd relished every last second of it. For Lambda, he could find no greater high than when he was sufficiently challenged, and his father rose to the occasion every single time. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of his brother.

Vasilis was the only child of his father's first marriage; Lambda was still three years his elder. He was of average height and stocky, bearing many of the same blunt features as their father, right down to his short, bulbous nose and hazel eyes. His hobbies, as far as Lambda could tell, involved hoisting heavy objects over his head and basically doing nothing else besides eating, occasionally sleeping, and often going out into town with one of his many "friends" (Lambda had trouble believing Vasilis could have any, considering he was dumb as a slowpoke) to get themselves into trouble and attempt such nefarious schemes such as stealing candy from small children. Lambda could not recall a single time in his life when he had seen his little brother actually sit down and study or read a fucking book, and it was odd. It was very odd. Bampás prized intelligence, the ability to think critically and quickly, creativity, everything Lambda had in droves, and yet, Vasilis was still somehow the favorite. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it, at all. That was why, at four in the morning when Vasilis groaned from the upper bunk and threw his pillow with surprising accuracy to hit Lambda smack in the side of the head, complaining about the light Lambda left on for his reading, the elder responded in kind by merely snatching the pillow up from where it had landed on the floor and placing it on his chair to sit.

"Come on," Vasilis whined, "Lambda, please, turn off the damn light and go to sleep! And give me my pillow back!"

"My room, my rules," Lambda replied blandly, "you shouldn't have fucking thrown it at me, now look where you've got yourself."

"I'm going to tell Bampás!"

"Yeah, sure, go wake him up, I'll bet he won't belt you at all."

"You're a prick."

"Duly noted. Go back to bed, Vaso." Vaso groaned again, louder and longer, and Lambda could swear he heard their father snort mid-snore on the other side of the apartment. Pointedly, Lambda turned a dirty stare to the upper bunk, though his little brother didn't look phased in the least. "Fucking whisper or keep your goddamn mouth shut," he hissed, "if he wakes up and catches us we are fucking toast, and I don't know about you, but I would rather not get on his bad side this early in the fucking morning." A roll of his eyes and a stupid pout, and Vaso grudgingly obeyed, rolling back over in his narrow bed.

"You don't have to be such a jerk all the time," the boy grumbled, "besides, you're the one with the light on, all I want to do is sleep, and you and your stupid book are keeping me up."

"You see, that's your problem, right there," Lambda said as he marked his page and snapped the textbook shut, "you could be using this time to be productive and read a stupid book your-fucking-self. And what do you do? You whine and try to start a pillow fight, and it's like this eve-"

"Can you just stop talking for once and go to bed?" Lambda glared again as Vaso cut him off, but his little brother was having none of it and made grabby hands at his fallen pillow. Reluctantly, Lambda tossed it back to him and then finally stripped down, pulled on his pajama bottoms, and rolled onto his own bunk after turning off the lights. Things were silent for a good, long moment after that, and though his own mind was racing with the new information that had been stored within it, Lambda knew—just knew—that Vaso was still awake, too.

"What do you want?" he groused, fully aware that his brother wasn't going to return to sleeping until he'd finally spoken his mind. His brother fidgeted in his top bunk, rolling this way and that before he settled to one side.

"I heard some guys from your class talking about you, today." Lambda loosed a frustrated sigh and turned, as well, slipping one hand under his head.

"Who was it?" he asked, spitting his words vehemently. "I'll bet it was Joni, the dick. He was picking on Al again, the other day. I want to rip the bastard's intestines out through his asshole and strangle him with them." Again, he expected the silence; Vaso was young, after all, and Lambda was relatively certain that he'd yet to reach the stage of his training when all the kids tended to turn on each other like rabid houndour. Ah, now that was an idea. Set a rabid houndour on Joni. The elegance was, after all, in the simplicity—and in the bloody mess of limbs a rabid houndour usually left behind.

"They called you a faggot."

...Oh. Oh. Lambda felt his brow furrow. He was no stranger to the word. He was always so busy with his studies, he never really had found the time to foray into the world of dating, quite unlike many of his peers. While he was certain his long nights in the embrace of knowledge set him far above his fellows trainees in terms of class position, in the long run, his lack of friends opened him rather quickly to ridicule. Apparently, his virginity was the first thing to come into the line of fire. Still, as before, Vaso was young and he had friends, so Lambda was relatively certain his little brother had never had to deal with that kind of frustration.

"They do that a lot," he muttered.

"What does it mean?" Vaso asked.

"A lot of things. Used to be a bundle of sticks or a cig, but now it's derogatory, so don't ever call anyone that, okay?"

"Okay. But what does it mean?"

"It refers to a guy who fucks other guys."

"Oh. ...Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Fuck other guys?"

"No. Even if I were into it, I'm too busy. Go to sleep, now, okay? We'll talk in the morning if you still have questions." Finally, there was silence. Eventually, Lambda heard Vaso turn back over in his bunk, and not much longer, the light, steady breathing of his baby brother sleeping. A feeling of relief washed over him; it could be difficult to get Vaso to sleep, most nights. He was quite the chatterbox, and Lambda had no idea where that came from whatsoever. More than one night in the past had ended in one of their late night conversations waking their father, a mistake the two boys were both careful to avoid making as best they were able.

With one final sigh, Lambda reached out to switch off the night light, and turned towards the wall to fall asleep. All he had to do was avoid Vasilis in the morning, and he would be home free.

As usual, their alarm went off early as sin, just as their father required, and the boys took turns brushing their teeth and showering before presenting themselves in the den by seven, awaiting their chore assignments for the day. If their father noticed how tired they were from their late night talk, he didn't say anything, instead dictating that Vasilis would take care of the trash that evening and that it was Lambda's turn to vacuum and wash dishes. After a breakfast consisting of frozen pancakes, the boys were given their meager allowance for lunch money and sent on their way to class.

"Here," Lambda murmured as he dropped Vasilis off in front of his classroom, "take mine, too. I hear they have your favorite on a la carte, today, so treat yourself."

"What about you?" Vaso asked as he stuffed the few bills into his pocket.

"Al usually has something to share with me," he said, "and even if he doesn't, I've skipped lunch, before. It's no big deal. Go on, now. Get your sorry ass to class, I have to go." Vasilis offered his big brother a small smile which Lambda met with a firm shove, sending his brother stumbling into his classroom, and with an abrupt turn, the elder boy took off down the hall before anyone could stop him. Lambda's own classroom was starting to fill in as he got there, and he went to take his regular seat. Alex was already there, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook. He glanced up briefly as Lambda slid into the seat next to him, and Lambda offered his friend a small smile.

"Mooorrrniing~" Alex chimed, though his expression remained one of extreme indifference; he wasn't a morning person, Lambda was well aware. It would probably be several hours before his mind was awake enough to function properly. They would have to share notes, later.

"Good morning, Alex," Lambda replied, "I see you left your coffee at home. Accident?" Alex whined and slumped forward onto his desk, giving Lambda the most pathetic look he was capable of; Lambda wasn't fooled.

"I am so tired," the auburn-haired boy said, "you don't understand, Lambda, I need caffeine."

"I don't have any cash on me, today, sorry," he chuckled, "I was kind of depending on you for lunch." Alex sat up, pressing his lips together as he crossed his legs under the desk.

"Mom and Dad say it's not right that you don't even get lunch money," he huffed.

"He gives me money!" Lambda protested.

"Then why can't you ever buy lunch, yourself?"

"I dunno. I like your mom's cooking. Besides, it's off-season, Bampás is strapped." Alex shook his head disbelievingly and leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest, as well. He remained silent for the next fifteen minutes leading up to class; Lambda glanced over occasionally to see his friend's eyelids drooping, and eventually, he was convinced Alex finally settled in to feign sleep. While it wasn't a common occurrence for Alex to act as such, Lambda knew far better than to think his friend had actually dozed off. There was no room for error in their classroom, after all, and Alex was far too smart to let his guard down around the cutthroat trainees surrounding them.

Soon enough class began, and their instructor entered the classroom. Crow was young, for an espionage agent, and foreign, to boot. She was wiry with a sharp gaze that made you feel as though all of your efforts were fruitless, like nothing you could do would be enough to pass whatever work she threw at you. Her dark skin was an oddity in Kanto, though apparently in Unova, where she hailed from, it was commonplace. Still, despite the fact that she tended to stick out like a sore thumb in the halls of the Kanto base, she was one of the most highly decorated assassins in the organization—in fact, she was ranked in the Silver Squad, and to even qualify to have your name put up to it, you had to be particularly badass. To achieve that level of prestige was a dream each and every last trainee in the classroom aspired to, but few would ever attain.

"I've gotten your recent results from the maze," Crow said, "and I must say, I am disappointed. An entire set of results, wasted—and still barely a single one of you made it through in less than fifteen minutes!" Lambda's lips curled up into a smirk even as he felt the intense glares of his classmates upon him. For a brief moment, Crow's sharp gaze paused to linger on him, and he was pleased to note there was nothing even relatively out of the ordinary to it; in fact, when she continued to speak, Lambda would have gone so far as to say that her message was not for him, but the entire rest of the class. "Sabotage is to be expected within this department's training. If you all can't even hold your head above water long enough to counteract some asshole breaking the rules, you may as well transfer to another department, right now. I hear Administration is looking for new recruits."

"Then why don't you kick Lambda out?" the most obnoxious of voices snapped from the back of the room; Joni. Lambda could feel the previous day's anger bubbling back up inside of him, and his jaw clenched tightly as he turned in his seat to face towards the back of the room, where Joni was sitting. Fucking hell, just looking at that loser's sorry mug was enough to set him off on a good day, with his stupid square, shaved head and dull brown eyes. Lambda just wanted to sucker-punch him in the stomach and wring his fragile little neck.

"If you want me gone so bad, why don't you fucking make me?" he hissed between his teeth, and Joni scoffed.

"No one wants you here," he replied, forcefully and loudly, and there was a murmuring around him; Lambda didn't even bother trying to make out what they were saying.

"You know," he said, "big talk from a guy who can't add two and two, wouldn't you say?"

"Settle down," Crow ordered, and Lambda's eyes narrowed as he stared, hard, at Joni for a good moment longer. With an annoyed huff, he finally turned to sit forward in his seat. Crow shook her head disapprovingly and then went about beginning them on the day's lesson—Lambda only took a few minutes longer than normal to focus in and dig out a pen to begin scrawling his usual torchic-scratch. He found himself having trouble concentrating, that day; to be fair, they were still in the unit on ciphers, which he assumed had something to do with the reason why they had featured so prominently in the maze for the passed month or so, but even so, it was unlike him to zone out as intensely as he was. Many times, Lambda found himself staring blankly up towards the chalkboard, pen stationary, missing minutes of Crow's lecture at a time, but he couldn't help it—he was fuming. A million and one thoughts ran through his mind, everything from his rabid houndour plan from the night before to how best to exact his revenge during their next practical test, and how poetic it would be if he could catch Joni the same way Joni had caught Al—

Their lecture didn't last long, that day, of course. Lectures never lasted long on Thursdays, regardless of subject, as it was the day their motley little group of wannabe-assassins was sent for physical training, and being the fourth Thursday of the month, it would be a free training period; fortunately, that meant the group of them would be able to train with whoever they so wished, as they were usually put into pairs where Lambda and Alex would find themselves split up; unfortunately, Lambda's father, being a physical training instructor, himself, kept a close eye on both of his sons' physical prowess, and would often dictate to them what to work on, anyways, so the freedom that his peers were presented with was a luxury Lambda could never recall having.

He trailed behind his class with Alex as they were herded out of the classroom and down towards the training gym by Crow, and were admitted one at a time into the room as she scanned their ID cards; one of the girls had forgotten hers at home, and was forced to remain outside, scowling at the floor as everyone else passed her by. Lambda gave her an awkward look as Crow scanned his card and he followed Alex inside.

The locker rooms were on the far side of the gym, and much to the trainees' eternal chagrin, were unisex; Alex and Lambda did their best to ignore the others' changing as they walked passed them to their own lockers and quickly stripped, stuffing their formal uniforms into them and pulling on their far more comfortable training uniforms, consisting solely of kung fu pants and a t-shirt that displayed their training group and department on their front, and their identification number displayed across their shoulders on the back, right above the standard red R of the organization. Alex, like most of the others in their training group, rarely, if ever, tucked in his shirt; it was just training, he would say, there was no need to be so uptight about it. Lambda could see where he was coming from, most days, though after enough warnings from his father, the need to be presentable to any Admins—or, God forbid, an executive—who happened to stop by to observe overwhelmed him on a constant basis.

When they had both finished changing, the two boys returned to the training room and briefly shared a look, glanced out at all the equipment, and eventually, Alex simply shrugged.

"I don't have any plans," he said, "did your dad tell you to do anything specific?"

Lambda grimaced. "He wants me to work on upper-body," he sighed, "and I fucking hate pull-ups." Alex's face split in mirth, and he clapped Lambda on the shoulder, giving him a shake before pushing him towards the pull-up bars on the far side of the room.

"Aw, c'mon, you lazy bastard," his friend laughed, "let's see you sweat, a little!" Lambda groaned. Still, there was no point in fighting it, and he allowed Alex to push him back towards the pull-up bars. Pull-ups were something Lambda had always struggled with, though he was more convinced it was due to his obscene height compared to his peers rather than a lack of capability. Training rooms for Rocket-borns in particular were designed with kids in mind, and from what Lambda could tell, either Kanto kids were short as all hell, or there was something in the drinking water that stunted their growth, and he honestly wasn't sure which it was. Every time he pointed this fact out, Alex would reply with indignance, often times just straight up calling Lambda out on being way too damn tall, but Lambda was also pretty sure that Alex was just touchy about being short.

That being said, Alex had no issue whatsoever doing his set, and completed it quickly and easily as Lambda struggled to keep his feet off the ground next to him; eventually, his friend seemed to get bored with waiting around for him, and wandered off to work on his cardio in the next corner of the room. By the time Lambda was finished awkwardly working on his set, Alex was already working on his kicking at the punching bag in the opposite corner, and Lambda hurried on over to join him. They quickly moved on from punching and kicking at the bag to working through their Mantis sets with each other, and Lambda had just thrown his friend to the padded floor beneath them for the seventeenth time when he saw Joni approaching them from the side.

"The hell do you want?" Lambda snapped at him as Alex jumped up to his feet. Joni didn't even bother to pretend his usual brand of dangerous fake friendliness, which Lambda found mildly surprising; normally it was all pointed smiles and homicidal fire blazing behind Joni's eyes, and it was rare for him—for anyone in their training group, in fact—to openly display hostile intent, but the sneer on Joni's face and the obvious bloodlust that dripped from him like grease off a grill, it spelt nothing but trouble, and Lambda was loathe to let the opportunity pass.

"Let's go, asshole," Joni snapped, "you and me, right now. No holds barred."

"Lambda, c'mon," Alex muttered at his side, "we don't have time for him, let's get back to sparring—" Lambda ignored him.

"If you wanna fight, I'll fight," he hissed at Joni, "I mean, Crow will probably kick my ass for picking on a useless sickling like you, but I can take a blow to my reputation if it means putting you in your place."

"Sickling?" Joni repeated, "do you even hear yourself when you talk, you fuckin' nerd?"

"Lambda," Alex repeated, forcefully now, "Lambda, don't pick a fight, you idiot, if Crow finds out and she tells your dad—" Lambda paused—Alex had a point, and he wasn't exactly looking to get himself whipped, that day. Deflating, Lambda made to ignore Joni and turn away; Joni, however, laughed.

"Aww, scared of what Daddy will say, you fuckin' pussy?"

"Step the fuck down Joni, we're not looking for a fight—"

"Whipped by your fucking faggot boyfriend, too, how fucking sad—

No. Nobody called Alex that. Nobody. Vaguely, Lambda heard Alex's protests at being called his boyfriend, but it was quickly drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears and the feeling of his fists clenched tightly at his side. Normally, he would breathe, slowly and fully, something his dad had taught him to deal with his anger when it ever got out-of-hand, but today, Lambda didn't want to calm down; today, he wanted Joni to hurt. Jaw clenched and nostrils flaring, Lambda spun on his heel and slugged Joni one straight in the jaw, catching him off-guard, and while the other boy stumbled back and tried to regain his faculty, Lambda snagged him by the front of his t-shirt and shoved him hard into the wall, reeling back to punch him again and again, thrusting his knee up to ram him in the crotch, beating him over and over and over—

It felt like an eternity had passed, but it had likely truly only been seconds before Crow was there, pulling him off of Joni and struggling to hold him back even as he swore and spat and strained against her; for a second he managed to break away and he lunged at Joni again, but Crow snagged him round the waist and threw him towards the opposite side of the room, tripping him up and forcing him to the floor to hold him there until he'd burned through the last of his anger. Lambda caught Alex in the corner of his eye, backed up and watching the entire show with eyes wide in surprise and confusion; behind him he could hear some of their peers gushing over Joni, something about him bleeding, his jaw being out-of-place, and satisfied with the damage he had inflicted, Lambda slowly calmed down, the corners of his mouth turning up in a cold, cruel smirk.

While Joni was whisked off to the infirm to get looked at, Crow didn't say a single word, rather, she leveled Lambda with her intense stare and had him collect his things from his locker before taking him out into the hall, taking his ID from him, and ordering him to sit, which he did without complaint, hugging his knees to his chest and generally attempting to take up the least amount of hallway possible. It was nearly an hour later when Lambda heard footsteps approaching, and he looked up only to see his father marching down the hallway. As he neared, his gaze lingered on Lambda with what an onlooker might confuse as an expression of stony indifference, but what Lambda knew was the look that promised all hell when they were safely behind closed doors in the family's apartment. Lambda was, for all intents and purposes, thoroughly, inevitably, screwed.

Briefly, his father stepped into the training room, and if Lambda strained his ears hard enough, he could hear his father speaking with Crow—and then he was back outside, slipping Lambda's ID into his pocket, before jerking his head towards the hall and turning to begin walking. Lambda knew better than to disobey. Quickly, he shot to his feet and squared his shoulders, following several steps behind his father as he was led back to the housing complex, into the elevator, and all the way back home, the seeds of dread taking root and festering in his stomach with every step.

"Shirt off, stand by the table, and face the wall," Bampás ordered, voice low and dangerous, as soon as Lambda was inside and he'd locked the door after him, "I'll deal with you in a minute." Again, Lambda obeyed. As he stood by the dining table, he could hear his father rifling through the master walk-in, no doubt looking for whichever switch or rod or belt the situation merited the most, and the thought sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. The waiting always seemed like the worst part, he mused, but avoiding the situation wouldn't do much good. Take it like a man, his father would usually say, and it was this mantra Lambda repeated over and over again even as he heard his father return and take position behind him.

There was no warning given, but Lambda knew the drill by now, and he heard the belt whipping through the air before he felt the sharp sting along his back, and he winced, fists clenching at his side. "One," he ground out. It him him again, from one shoulder to the opposite waist. "Two." And again. "Three." At four, he swore aloud. At five there was a pause, and he knew he screwed up, because when next it hit he could feel the metal buckle tear at his skin, and he gasped, reaching out to grab the edge of the table with both hands. By ten, his knuckles were white and likely to split open at any second with the sheer force of his grip, and that was when his father finally spoke.

"Tell me what you did wrong," he said, and there was danger in his words, a familiar danger, and frantically, Lambda wracked his brain, tried to figure out what lesson, exactly, he was being taught, but only one thing stuck in his mind.

"I picked a fight," he tried, and that had apparently been the wrong answer, because the belt came down across his shoulders, and he swore again.

"Count," Bampás hissed.

"Eleven—that, that was eleven—I—I don't know, I picked a fight, I caused a scene—" Twelve. Thirteen.

"Try again."

"I don't—I didn't let Alex take care of himself, I–I didn't—I don't know—" Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. He counted each and every last one. His father stopped pressing him to answer his question, and his get-out-of-jail-free card was lost. By the time they reached twenty-five, Lambda had beginning to have trouble focusing on his count, but he was lucky, and he heard his father let the belt drop before he felt a strong hand clamped vice-like on his upper arm and he was whirled around to face him.

"You showed weakness," Bampás snarled, teeth bared, "that kid baited you and you took it! What have I told you about that, Lambda?! Have I not made myself clear?"

"I'm sorry!" Lambda cried, twisting in his father's grip, "No, you have, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

"Damn right you weren't!" Bampás shoved him away, and Lambda nearly tripped, only managing to keep his footing by catching himself on the bookshelf near the door, and he quickly straightened himself, squared his shoulders again, lifted his head—one beating was enough for today, Lambda thought vaguely to himself. He swallowed thickly as his father started towards him again, and it took all of his willpower not to cower like a bitch, but it seemed he needn't have worried, as all Bampás reached for was the knob to the boys' bedroom, opening the door wide. "No dinner tonight," he said, leagues calmed than he had been only moments before, though the edge to his voice was still there, "go do something productive. I don't want hear a single fucking word out of you until tomorrow. You'll get your ID back before class."

Lambda didn't need telling twice. He scurried off into the room and dropped to his knees in front of the bookshelf closest to his desk, pretending to scour the spines until he heard the door finally click close, and he could let himself relax. Grabbing the first textbook his hand came in contact with, Lambda went to drop unceremoniously into his desk chair, cracking it open mid-way and staring blankly at it before hugging his knees tightly to his chest and resting his chin upon them. It had been a long time since Bampás had gotten that angry with him. The cold air from the vent above him made him shiver, but it felt good on the burning sting of the welts he had no doubt been left with.

Lambda wasn't sure how long he had sat at his desk, idly skimming his textbook as he waited for the sting to leave his back, but it had probably been a while; when he next looked up and out the window, the sun was low in the sky, clouds stained pink and orange around it; it was probably nearing eight, now. His stomach agreed and grumbled angrily at him, though Lambda did his best to ignore it. Maybe if he was lucky, Vaso would sneak him some leftovers; he thought he could smell charred lamb and warm pita, and goddamn he was hungry—

It was around then that the bedroom door reopened, and Lambda stiffined for the briefest of moments before leaning foreword to bury his nose back into his textbook. "Lambda," came his father's voice, far quieter and softer than before, "your friend's here." When he glanced around, he caught sight of Alex fidgeting behind Bampás awkwardly, and he offered his friend a strained smile.

"Hey, Al!" he managed to greet brightly despite it all, "what's up?"

"Um–you left part of your uniform, after—" Alex said, "I, uh, I brought it for you." He held up a pair of gloves, and Bampás gently pushed him into the bedroom.

"Viper's got an overnight training," he said, "you're welcome to stay the night, if you'd like. I'll bring you kids something to munch on." He hovered for a moment longer, giving Lambda some strange look that he didn't quite understand, but soon enough, he was gone, and that was when Alex dropped the gloves to the floor and rushed Lambda, fussing over him like he was a child.

"Fucking Lugia," Alex swore, "did he hit you? Lambda, why didn't you—?"

"It's fine, Al, I'm fine," Lambda cut him off, waving him away from the welts, "they don't hurt anymore, it's not like it was meant to last; discipline, that's all. Discipline." Alex shot him a dry look and opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it when Bampás returned, placing a plate of pita and stuffed grape leaves on the desk. The boys thanked him politely, and the instant he was back out of the room, Lambda grabbed a couple and shoved them into his mouth, letting out a pleased groan the instant he tasted lamb. "Oh my god," he said through the mouthful, "oh my god I love my dad's cooking, holy shit—"

"Do you need some alone time with your...?" Alex reached out to pluck one of the leaves up, observing it uncertainly from every angle. "...What is this, like a—like a green spring roll, or something?"

"It's grape leaves, you fuckin' pleb!" Lambda laughed, "fuck, they're good, eat some. It's called dolma."

"You are so fucking Greek, oh my fucking Lugia—"

And that was how the rest of the night went, really; Alex and Lambda, sitting around the bedroom eating whatever snacks they could get their hands on. It was fun—it was good. Lambda hadn't been sure why his father had seemingly decided to take pity on him and allow his friend in, but that was the thing, wasn't it? He really didn't care; Lambda didn't know how he would cope without Alexander in his life. The last thing he remembered before the two of them passing out in a tangled heap of limbs in Lambda's bunk was his friend's laughter ringing in his ears, and a glowing warmth spreading through his entirety. Lambda slept well, that night.

* * *

**A/N: WHOOPS IT'S BEEN NEARLY A YEAR SINCE I UPDATED THIS MY BAD. I meant to have this chapter out sooner, but between moving, work and uni, time kind of got away from me. ;; On the bright side, I've actually kind of decided where I want this story to go, as far as storyline and Petrel's character development! And the flip side, I'm still debating how long I want to make it, because on the one hand, I'm no longer entirely happy with STKF, and I want to retcon a lot of it, particularly focusing on the characterizations of the Executives, as they all read somewhat flatly... unu I'm just going to go ahead and blame on STKF being more of a romantic comedy. What I really want to do is try to make this a serious prologue-to-downfall Petrel-centered Team Rocket story, because — as I am sure some of you noticed in STKF — I started to drift away from Proton and more towards Petrel towards the end, and now he is my precious child and I must protect him at all costs while simultaneously making his life hell. IDK. I want to try and not be overly grimdark, but we'll see how that turns out. In the meantime, I've got a rough drafting of major events to take place along the storyline, and I'll try to post more often or whatever. Reviews and criticism always welcome! (oWo)/)**


	3. Cut

**Disclaimer: Copious amounts of Lambda present. Which is probably good because this entire story is about him.**

* * *

Joni wasn't in class for the next few days, and Lambda hadn't felt this good about himself since the first time he found the trick walls in the maze room. The rest of the trainees didn't seem to agree, of course; with the exception of Alex, most of them seemed to go out of their way to sabotage Lambda at any and all costs, getting so creative as to attempt to pick the wallet straight out of his pocket so he wouldn't be able to scan in to any of their practical trainings or testings, and once even just outright tossing one of his assignments out of the window. Rarely was Lambda phased, and not once had any of the other kids been particularly successful; he didn't keep his ID in his wallet, and when his papers had fallen towards the ground, blowing this way and that by the wind, all he'd needed to do was let out his ditto, Helix, who was more than capable of transforming into a spearow it had seen flying around and retrieving the papers for him. No points lost, and he'd pissed off the near entirety of his class simultaneously. Class was, for lack of a better word, _grand_.

On the other hand, Lambda had thought that Alex would be considered guilty by association and given much the same treatment that he himself had been, but it seemed not to be the case. Friendly and affable as he was on the outside, Alex could charm practically anybody, it seemed, and for the most part, he was left alone; when he wasn't, he would pout and moan and guilt trip until he got his way and whoever was pestering him would apologize and leave feeling all the world better for worming their way onto friendly terms with him. Lambda wasn't fooled; he could see Alex's intensions in the cold grin mistaken as a warm greeting, the telltale twitches of his friend's fingers and hands that he only got when he was up to no good. For all his sweet words and innocent face, Alex was a trouble-maker, and Lambda had seen him play everyone like a fiddle, from newbie grunts to high-ranking admins alike.

That was why he wasn't so surprised when the fight broke out over lunch, that day. Earlier in the morning, when Lambda had taken his seat at his usual desk, he'd spied Alexander in the back corner of the room, gesturing wildly as he spoke to one of their classmates, the girl who had been denied entry to the training room the week prior. She'd looked highly affronted at the time, and idly, Lambda had wondered what his friend was up to. When morning lessons were over and they were all sitting in the cafeteria, eating as a class before their afternoon training, he got his answer as the girl had promptly challenged the boy she was frequently seen in the company of and slapped him so hard across the face Lambda swore he saw a tooth fall out. There was yelling, unintelligible yelling—and laughing. Alex hastily jammed his fist against his mouth to stifle his laughter, but Lambda had caught it, and he cast Alex an amused glance.

"What'd you tell her?" he asked once the girl had stormed off, presumably to find the blunt weapon that would be the focus of the boy's murder, if Team Rocket held trials for that sort of thing, and Alex finally allowed himself to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"I told her I walked in on him fucking the proctor," he replied between laughter, "oh Lugia, did you see her _face_? Did you see _his_? _Priceless_—" Lambda allowed himself a chuckle.

"So when you told her that," he said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "did you know that _she_ was fucking the proctor?" Everyone turned to stare when Alex completely lost it. Lambda grinned.

After lunch, Crow herded them all up and led them down the hallways and back towards the maze room, one by one scanning them in. Used to the drill, by now, it only took minutes for each of them to stow their things in the lockers and settle in, some doing warm-up stretches, and some, like Lambda and Alex, taking their seats and priming each other on ciphers. Fifteen minutes later, when nothing had happened and the proctor hadn't shown his face, Lambda began to get the feeling that something was distinctly different, this time—not wrong, per say. Just different. That was when the intercom turned on, barely noticeable save for the slight buzzing that came with it, and the trainees froze in their places, all heads swiveling to the speaker in the corner of the room. It was quiet for a moment, and then...

"**Agent 47382, proceed in for testing.**" The girl from earlier, at the far end of the line—Lidia? Linda?—stood, brow furrowed in confusion, and as far as Lambda could tell, everyone in the room agreed with her. When she hesitated for a second too long, the voice on the intercom spoke again. "**Agent 47382, please proceed.**" She took a few steps forward, and grasped the door handle firmly in her grip, shooting one last look back towards the rest of the class before pulling it open and entering. The door automatically locked behind her.

"What just happened?" the boy she'd fought with piped up after a long minute in which everyone stared blankly at the door.

"Where's the proctor?" someone else asked.

"Forget the proctor, where's Crow? She usually stays during the briefing—"

"Yeah, you know, that too! Why didn't they brief us? What's going on?"

"Lambda," Alex said, turning back towards him, "this is really weird. Do you know what's going on?" Lambda could only offer him a shrug.

"How should I know?" he replied, "it's not like Crow or the proctor are overly fond of me, or anything."

"Well, yeah, but your dad trains grunts, right? He never said anything about this?" Lambda snorted and rolled his eyes; he wouldn't have graced that with an answer if Alex hadn't leveled him with one of his spine-tingling, no-nonsense stares.

"He trains outsiders," he stressed, "outsiders and Silver Squad _only_. He doesn't do shit with anyone born on-base, I don't think they even get the same aptitude test we do—" Alexander gave an annoyed huff and settled back into his seat, crossing his arms. It wasn't much later when the intercom crackled back on.

"**Agent 47379, proceed in for testing.**" Ssssssssssssssam? Solomon? Stephen? Some blond kid nervously got to his feet and shuffled in through the maze doors. Like before, they locked behind him. It went on like this, for a while, with the intercom coming on every five minutes or so, sending another one of their peers into maze with little rhyme or reason as for who was next; Alexander, who was both younger than Lambda by a few months, and whose last name came well after Lambda's in the alphabet, went in two trainees after Stephen, then more and more trainees, until only Joni and Lambda were left in the room, far too confused by the situation to do more than eye each other in distaste.

"**Agent 47299, proceed in for testing.**" Slowly, Joni got to his feet.

"See you on the other side, asshole," he grumbled, shooting Lambda a pointed stare as he passed through the door. Lambda didn't pay him much mind, instead preferring to fiddle anxiously with his pocket knife.

Five minutes came and went, and there was no call for him to enter. Lambda evolved from playing with his knife to bouncing his leg to pacing, muttering cipher structures under his breath to try and keep himself calm. Another five minutes passed. He had just started contemplating the idea that perhaps they were just fucking with him before his run as punishment for the last time he'd broken the maze when the intercom crackled again to life, and his shoulders sagged in relief from a tension he hadn't even noticed wound him up.

"**Agent 47321, please exit the briefing room.**"

That... wasn't the same. That wasn't the same as the others. Lambda tilted his head slowly, eyes drifting from the speaker, to the door into the maze, and then back up towards the speaker. Slowly, he advanced, gripping the handle tightly and giving the door a tug. It remained firmly locked. The intercom crackled and spoke again.

"**Agent 47321, please exit the briefing room.**"

Lambda tugged on the door handle again. Nothing. Behind him, he heard the door to the hallway creak slowly, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Crow grimly holding it open. "Come on, Lambda," she said, "I'll explain outside." Obediently, Lambda turned to follow her out of the briefing room, glancing back uncertainly at the maze door a couple times on the way. When they were out in the hallway, Crow passed him back his ID card, and Lambda took it, staring at it dumbly.

"Why can't I get in?" he asked, "aren't we doing testing, today?"

"We are," Crow confirmed, "but you're not."

Oh. ...Oh? Lambda's brow furrowed as he slipped his ID back into his pocket. For a good second neither said anything as Lambda considered the possibilities of what this meant. His father had said he would try and get Lambda into more difficult tests, last week—maybe it'd worked? Maybe Lambda was going to be sent somewhere else for his testings?

"So, then, what?" he said, "is there a different maze or something I have to run?" The look on Crow's face told him no, probably not.

"Lambda," she said slowly, "I need you to listen to me _very carefully._ It's October. We're doing promotion exams in six months, and not everyone can make it." And he was so awesome they decided to give him his promotion exam early, Lambda finished in his head. Yes. Good. This was good news. "We're starting cuts, today. Normally we'd wait until after everyone finished their run, but—well, Lambda, I'm going to be brutally honest, here." Lambda nodded encouragingly. "Even if you got your shit together and took the maze seriously this run, you wouldn't have had enough points to make it."

Lambda blinked. And blinked again. And tilted his head, brow furrowed, opening his mouth and sucking in a breath to ask her what the actual hell was going on, only to let the breath out as a sigh and shut his mouth again. Slowly, his head tilted to the other side, as if the different perspective would somehow get things to make sense, and finally, he spoke. "I don't understand," he said, "I had the best times on all of the mazes. I always finished first."

"Yeah," Crow agreed, "but we were scoring on how well you completed each of the puzzles, not how many different ways you could break our equipment. You averaged about ten to fifteen points a run. Five of those points were for your times, and you missed somewhere around thirty to forty a run."

"But I _solved_ the puzzles."

"You solved _some_ puzzles. You broke the rest of them. Literally, we needed to get maintenance in here to fix everything once a week." Lambda opened his mouth to protest, but Crow quickly cut him off. "No, Lambda. You're talking in circles, and I'm done. You're out of the department, and your training is over. You can pick up an aptitude exam in Administration and try for something else, but your scores are abysmal—you don't have a hope in Espionage." Again, he shut his mouth. Crow sighed heavily. "I've already told your father," she continued, "it was hard to tell, but he sounded pretty upset. You've got more to worry about right now than testing."

Then she turned abruptly on her heel, and began to walk away. Lambda's hands clenched into fists at his side. She already told Bampás. He was out of the department, and she already told Bampás. Shit. Lambda knew, without a doubt, that he was going to get it when he got home. For a moment he could only imagine the look on his father's face when he returned, imagine the beating he would get for screwing up this badly—they should have told them they were starting cuts, he thought bitterly. It wasn't a big secret that only a few trainees got through the Rocket-born training program for the Espionage department, but Lambda had thought, been convinced, that cuts didn't happen until years down the line from where his class was. Hell, they never got to see their scores for their examinations, the only reason they knew they were scored was because they had been told often during their first year of training that if they didn't show up they didn't get their points—there had been no feedback. How was he supposed to have known he was in danger of something like this?

The thoughts began racing through his mind. He had to find a way—something, some way to avoid his father's wrath. The welts from his last beating may have been long-gone, but there were still some yellowish bruises that served as a reminder of what he would be facing when he returned to the apartment. He didn't want to go through that, again. Not twice in one month. That was when he realized something—Crow had stopped paying attention to him, and the scanner was still hanging at her waist. Maybe if he was fast enough, he could—? His gaze lingered on his mentor's retreating form before slipping over to the door back into the briefing room. Could he...? He shifted on his feet, feeling his balance. He... actually thought he might have a shot. He just—he just had to be fast. Fast enough to outrun her.

And he was.

It was a stupid idea, Lambda thought as he charged, he was going to be in so much trouble when they finally caught him, but he didn't let that thought stop him or slow him even the tiniest bit. He bowled Crow over—she hadn't been expecting him to do that—before snatching up her card scanner and bolting back towards the door, noticing with a spark of satisfaction that it was still set to the briefing room's lock. He whipped his ID out of his pocket and scanned it, skidding to a stop just in front of the door to open it—a quick glance over his shoulder told him that Crow was already after him, uncharacteristically shouting obscenities and insults at him—and he quickly dodged into the room, whirling around to slam the door shut behind him and lock it. A moment later and she ran into the door in an ill-conceived attempt to bust it down.

"_Lambda_!" she snarled, "Lambda, open the Arceusdamn door! I'm going to _strangle_ you, you little _prick_—"

Lambda payed her no mind. He dropped the scanner on the floor and stepped over to the door into the maze, jamming his ID in the space between the door and its frame and wiggling it—a little more—just—about—there. His face split into a grin as he felt the lock give way and he swung the door wide open. Crow slammed up against the door again, and this time it shook violently. He didn't have time to lose. Lambda stepped into the maze, and shut the door behind him.

It was dark, again. Even after taking a couple seconds to adjust himself to the pitch blackness, he could barely make out the path before him, but he'd be damned if he let that stop him. Lambda bolted off down the path—they changed the walls, was his first thought when he came upon a sharp right far before he should have. Still, there was one thing it didn't change—the debriefing room was right next to the briefing room, after all, the entrances separated by a few unmovable walls and nothing more. Lambda could hear the door open at that side and footsteps enter, and he laughed. God, it felt like a spy movie, or something—they'd actually sent people in after him. A race against time—a race against Team Rocket. As he took a few more turns, a left, a right, straight through a T-junction, he felt something unusual settle into the put of his stomach, something much like anxiety but altogether nothing like it at all. Pressure. It was pressure.

He was being challenged, and he loved it.

He could have cheated, of course. Found the movable walls he had memorized by heart and skip the entire goddamn maze again, just for kicks. But something about having to fight tooth and nail to continue running, having to think on his feet, avoid capture and punishment, it was like he was high. He pushed himself harder and harder, flying through the narrow hallways and ducking down side passages and dead ends to hide whenever he heard them coming close, losing them in the twisting maze until he heard them curse and swear with frustration. The puzzles were all the same as last time—it seems they didn't want to change them after just having them fixed. Lambda played each and every one the exact way they were meant to be played, from memory games to ciphers to hidden keycard challenges, feeling the pressure strengthen every time they nearly caught him at one.

They nearly ran him down when he stopped at the puzzle to obtain they keycard out of the maze. It was elaborate, beautiful in its complexity, involving a series of riddles and light puzzles that would have no doubt left him stumped had he an average mind. In fact, much like the rest of the puzzles, the only time-consuming factor had been the tediousness of it all, and one of the agents sent after him had gotten to his little corner of the maze just as he'd been able to open the compartment his ticket out was held within. With a huge grin, Lambda had waved the card tauntingly at them before bolting back off into the maze. He heard them chasing right behind him; he doubled back—left, left, right, left, straight, right, right, left, straight, right, straight, left—until he was certain he had lost them, and continued on, weaving and circling, blasting through the last few puzzles like they were nothing. Soon enough, he could see the light at the end of the path, the door into the debriefing room, and he pushed himself all the more harder for one final burst of speed, skidding to a halt in front of the door to swipe the keycard through it. He could hear the handlers rounding the last turn, just as out of breath as he felt at the moment, and triumphantly, Lambda threw open the door as soon as it was unlocked, and he stepped inside.

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes as he came inside, shoulders heaving with exertion as he tried to catch his breath. The proctor was standing over by the monitors a look of grudging approval covering his features. Lambda's grin broadened.

"How long?" he gasped out between breaths.

"Ten minutes," the proctor said. Lambda threw his hands up into the air.

"Hail to the king, bitches!" he cried. The door opened behind him, and a second later, he felt a strong, vice-like grip clamp onto his shoulder. Normally, he would have tried to pick a fight, threaten whoever had the gall to touch him with his father's status—but instead, Lambda merely dissolved into laughter, feeling the pressure bubble away with it and a calm sort of serenity began to wash over him. The proctor motioned to whoever it was behind him; they let him go. Still laughing, Lambda went to flop into his usual seat next to Alex.

"The hell was that all about?!" Alex hissed. Lambda just shook his head, calming himself long enough to shoot the security agents who'd been chasing him a cocky grin.

"Dunno," he managed to get out, "but something tells me Security should work on their cardio a little better." The agents scowled at him, and one of them opened his mouth to snark back at him, but the proctor waved them out of the room, and they left without complaint. There was silence, for a second, as the proctor then turned back to his screens and took his clipboard, scribbling notes furiously. The rest of Lambda's peers turned and began whispering furiously to each other. Lambda caught Joni scowling at him from down the line, but he didn't quite care, at the moment.

"So how'd you do it?" Alex asked, "I mean—I was first out, eighteen minutes—"

"I have no idea," Lambda laughed, "god, that was just so _fun_, wasn't it? They should send people after us every time, that was a riot—man, if I wasn't getting cut—" Abruptly, his laughter cut off. Right, he found himself thinking, he was cut. In the rush of everything, he'd almost forgotten. Beside him, Alex shifted.

"I thought that was it," he murmured, "I mean, he didn't say anything, but the proctor mentioned someone was already going to get the axe, and when you didn't show—" Lambda sighed heavily. He still hadn't come up with how he was going to try and apologize to his father—he was probably going to be in even deeper shit, now that he thought about it. Well... at least he'd given it a good shot. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself, he could at least be satisfied with that.

It took a while for the proctor to finish writing, and when he did, he'd pressed a button on his walkie-talkie and called Crow into the room. She, too, scowled at Lambda as she entered, and her glared promised a slow and painful death, likely at the hands of a pit of hungry mawile, though she didn't actually say a word about what had just happened. Instead, she merely took a minute to consult quietly with the proctor before the two faced their line, eyes sweeping up and down as though appraising each and every one of them.

"As I'm sure the proctor's told you, already," Crow said, and edge in her voice that hadn't been there earlier, "we're beginning pre-exam cuts. Each month, those of you with insufficient points in your testings will be cut from the Espionage department's SpecOps program. We had been planning on cutting a few of you today, already, _however_..." Briefly, her eyes lingered on Lambda. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, the results from today's run are inconclusive. We'll need more time to look everything over. You are all dismissed early, today. We'll resume everything before tomorrow's lecture." Another round of whispers; slowly, each of the trainees stood and filed out of the debriefing room, stopping quickly by their lockers to retrieve their belongings before heading off their own separate ways.

"So," Alex said as they wandered off towards the grounds, "what do you think is going to happen?"

"I have no idea," Lambda sighed, "_Jesus_, Bampás is going to be _pissed_ when I see him."

"Want me to come with you?" his friend offered, a look of concern gracing his features, "I mean, he won't—he won't beat you again if someone's there, right?"

"He'll send you to wait somewhere until he's done," Lambda disagreed, "that's what he does when Viper's home." Alex's mouth twisted into a disapproving frown.

"It's not right," he said quietly after a moment, "he shouldn't hurt you like that. Mom and Dad agree, you know, it's wrong for him to even think about belting you."

"Oh?" Lambda chuckled, "and what do they do when you get in trouble, then?"

"They ground me, like _normal_ human beings."

"Doesn't seem like that works too well—you have absolutely no self-control." Alex gave him a sharp look, and Lambda smirked.

"I'm worried about you, you _ass_," he snapped. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked off. Lambda didn't understand what had made him so upset, but deciding it wasn't quite important, continued on to meet his imminent demise at the hands of his father.

When Lambda finally entered the apartment, he was surprised by the fact that his father wasn't waiting, belt in hand, to beat the everloving shit out of him; in fact, his father wasn't there at all, an oddity, considering it was still very much off-season for training outsiders. Bampás didn't get much work during the off season, and was often home before Lambda or even Vasilis was. Usually this meant a home-cooked meal, and for that reason, Lambda loved the off season, because he loved his father's cooking—it made getting in trouble a pain in the ass, though.

Convinced that his father had only stepped out for a minute, Lambda dropped his things by the coffee table and sank unceremoniously onto the couch, settling back into it as he resigned himself to bleakly waiting. He didn't know how much time passed, but apparently it had been a while—the next thing he knew, his father was gently shaking him awake, and Lambda found himself on his side, drooling into one of the throw pillows. Immediately, he shot, up, wiping at the side of his face with the back of his hand and grimacing at the sticky wetness that clung to it.

"Evening," said Bampás. Lambda bit his lip; when it became apparent he was too startled to speak, his father continued. "I don't suppose you were waiting out here to tell me anything?" Lambda grimaced.

"Uhm—I—?" His voice faltered. His father sighed disapprovingly and bowed his head. When he glanced back up, it was with a smirk on his face.

"So, what's this I hear about you shoving your mentor to the ground and forcing your way into the maze?"

Again, Lambda grimaced. He wanted nothing more than a pit to appear in the floor and swallow him whole. His father's demeanor did strike him as odd, of course—normally he would work himself into a rage, like last time, cold and stony and dangerous, but this time... This time, it was different, and Lambda couldn't put his finger on it.

"Um, Bampás," he tried again, swallowing thickly, "please—please don't be mad, okay? I—Crow said she told you, I got cut from—"

"I'm not worried about that." Lambda scooted over as his father sat on the couch next to him. "Tell me about the maze." He nodded.

"I stole Crow's scanner and let myself in," he said, "and they sent in some guys from Security, so I ran—" That seemed to be the right answer, and his father did the unthinkable; he threw back his head and laughed, a hearty one that neither Lambda nor Vasilis heard very often.

"Hell _yeah_ you did!" Lambda started slightly when his father clapped him amicably on the back. "I knew you had it in you, kid! The full maze—the full goddamn maze, in ten minutes, nothing broken! And all it took was a couple plucky Johtes to get your blood pumpin', imagine that!"

"What?" Lambda replied, "okay, yeah, um—what? Are you not mad, or whatever?"

"Oh, I'm _furious_!" His father laughed again. "You fucked up, big time, and you got cut—but how am I supposed to be mad at you when you outrun your entire fucking class by _eight minutes_? That has to be some kind of record!" He threw his arm around Lambda and pulled him in for a hug, one that Lambda awkwardly wondered whether or not he should return, but it was a predictably short time before his father released him, and Lambda scooted to put a bit of room between them, eyes straying briefly towards his father's belt.; if Bampás noticed, he didn't say anything, the smile never leaving his face.

"What am I gonna do about work?" Lambda suddenly said, "if I'm getting kicked out the department, I'll have to get in somewhere else." He thought that would do it, dig through the outer hysteria and directly into the fury at his father's center. There was nowhere he could go in to, and both of them knew it—not until the next year, at any rate, and he would be with the newbies, years behind Alex or any of his peers, and until then, his only option was hard, physical labor in maintenance or out on the farms, neither of which his father had any measure of respect for. That was what life was in Team Rocket, he would say, working hard, earning respect, because it was the only way to hold your own.

"Look," his father said, "I'll talk to Crow, okay? They'd be idiots to kick you out after what you did, today, points or no." Huh. Well, then. That was easy. Score one for respect. Lambda brightened slightly, and that was when his father's face fell flat, staring hard at him, and suddenly he was planning his escape route through the bedroom window and down the fire escape. "Here's the deal, though," Bampás continued, "you can't fuck up like this again."

"I know," Lambda replied. Bampás didn't let up.

"I'm not about to go grovel to some second-rate admin just so you can keep on slacking," he said, jamming a finger at Lambda's chest, "if anything like this happens again, don't think I won't whoop your ass. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Apparently satisfied, his father nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

"Dinner's at seven," he continued, waving one hand dismissively "and in the meantime, I'm going to go see whose cock I have to suck to fix your mess. I want you to clean whatever's still in the sink and go do... something. I don't know. Look smart. You're good at that." He reached out to ruffle Lambda's hair in a rare show of affection, and Lambda, in return, obediently stood and made his way into the kitchenette to do his chores, watching as his father wandered around the apartment a bit, gathering some paperwork he apparently needed to fill out for one of the higher-ups, and left.

The next morning, Lambda's routine started the same way it always did—the alarm went off, he and Vasilis working in tandem, movements synchronized, as they showered, brushed their teeth, dressed, ate—however, Lambda was pleasantly surprised that morning when he led his little brother out into the hall to walk him to class and found none other than Alex waiting for him, coffee in hand. His friend smiled warmly and after a moment, Lambda mirrored the expression nearly perfectly—he was still working on smiling. Smiling was strange, he thought.

"Morning, Lambda," Alex greeted, "how did it go with your dad, yesterday?"

"He laughed and patted my head," Lambda replied, "I'm still not sure what actually happened. He said he'd get me back in."

"The others aren't going to be very happy about that," Alex said grimly, "they were happy to be rid of you. Do you know how it's going to look to them?"

"That I'm actually worth a damn?" Alex eyed him wearily, and Lambda shrugged.

"_No_," came the flat answer, "it's going to make it look like they won't have a fucking chance because your dad will have the entire department dancing on strings."

"But he doesn't," Lambda protested.

"No, but they don't know that." Alex placed a hand on Lambda's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Keep your head down for a while and keep your big mouth shut about it, alright?" Lambda opened his mouth to protest again, but Alex stopped abruptly and pressed a finger to Lambda's lips to silence him. "_Shhhhhhhh_," he said. When he seemed certain Lambda was going to stay quiet, he took his face in both hands and squished his cheeks. "Big mouth. Keep it shut. Do not antagonize the people who want to smother you in your sleep." When he turned away to lead the two brothers off down the hallways, Lambda couldn't help but let a smile cross his face.

Still, even Alex's special brand of silliness couldn't do anything about the anxiety settling into the pit of his stomach. Regardless of his attitude—regardless of how sure he was that Bampás was able to talk Crow into letting him stick around—there was the little nagging doubt at the back of his mind, the thought that maybe, just maybe, it didn't work out. The previous year of training, before anyone in his training group was fifteen, before they had taken their first aptitude test and he had been with a much larger group of classmates, they would be split into groups of four or five and sent to intern with the different departments in the afternoon. Maintenance hadn't been terrible, in the sense that it was mostly inside work, but the farms... He'd hated _every second_ he had to spend out there, back-breaking work with minimal protection from the heat—and the worst part was the boredom, the _stagnation_, and he could have _sworn_ he felt his IQ drop a few points while he'd been out there. He didn't know what he would do if he got stuck out there for a week, let alone an entire year.

He felt eyes on him as he and Alex finally made it into their classroom and took their usual seats, though Alex didn't seem to notice anything amiss. The anxiety in his stomach grew worse as he shuffled over to take his usual desk, working hard to keep his head high and his shoulders squared as he focused on maintaining the posture his father had drilled into him since the time he could walk. Soon, he was seated and still, erect and alert, and that was when he noticed how unusually quiet it was, how there was something heavy hanging in the air. Nobody really knew their scores, Lambda mused, and he was one step ahead in the sense that Crow had vaguely mentioned his averages the day before; if he failed out, well, he knew it was coming, in the first place. The rest of them... they didn't have a single clue, and the thought that he had at least this over them calmed Lambda, to some small degree.

When Crow came in, the proctor next to her, Lambda felt everyone in the room simultaneously stiffen. This was it, he thought, the moment of truth. For a long moment, there was silence, and Crow glanced slowly through the room, meeting each and every one of them in the eye. When she looked at him, Lambda offered her a smirk he hoped came across as confident rather than worried, and she replied in kind by eyeing him disgruntledly, no doubt still angry with him for picking a fight with her the day before.

"The proctor is going to call out ID numbers," she said simply, "if you hear your number, stand, and remain standing." Lambda shot Alex a glance out of the corner of his eye. He remained smiling, as usual, but he was gripping his coffee cup so hard it had split near the bottom, altogether unnoticing of the creamy, tan beads of liquid slowly trailing down his wrist. The proctor shuffled with his papers for a second and removed a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, slipped them on, and began reading out the numbers.

"Four-seven-three-eight-eight." The girl three seats behind Lambda got to her feet.

"Four-seven-three-five-five." A boy on the far side of the room.

"Four-seven-three-two-nine." Another girl.

The proctor went on and on, calling out numbers steadily as all around the room trainees began to stand uncertainly. Eventually, Alex was called, and he shared a glanced briefly with Lambda before he stood, shifting nervously on his feet. Lidia was called not long after that, and then Stephen, and Joni. It went on quickly, and soon most of the group was standing, save for Lambda and three others that he was vaguely aware of, but had never met nor had any intention to.

"Four-seven-three-three-four." One of them, who could be seen frequently fawning over Joni, stood. It was then that the proctor went quiet, biting the inside of his cheek as though contemplating something before looking to Crow, searching for what could have only been approval, as their mentor nodded grudgingly to him.

"Four-seven-three-two-one," he said. Lambda swallowed hard and slowly pushed himself to his feet. For another, longer, moment, all was quiet again as Crow took her time to look all of the standing trainees over.

"If you are standing," she said, "you've made the first cut." Lambda let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and the rest of his peers promptly broke out into cheers, laughter, turning to each other for high-fives. Alex, himself, whirled around and captured Lambda in a fierce hug, squeezing him tightly, and Lambda, though not known for his affection, found himself returning it, inhaling his friend's scent deeply and finding himself all the more calm for it. Once they'd settled down—and once Alex had removed himself from Lambda and turned back to face the front—she continued. "Those who were cut, the proctor will escort you down to Administration where you will be given a new aptitude test and reassigned to one of the labor divisions until your next training opportunity arises. Please leave now."

"This way!" the proctor called, waving one arm above his head before the two who had been cut stood and solemnly followed him out the door. Once they had left, Crow had them sit back down, and as far as Lambda could tell, nothing much had changed. She began her final lecture for their unit on ciphers, and as they dug around to get out their notes and pens and pencils, Lambda couldn't help but muse on the fact that it could have been him, taking the walk of shame and following the proctor out. He hadn't even held on by the skin of his teeth—his father had certainly pulled through, yet again. If it hadn't been for him, for his impressive position within the organization...

One thing was for sure, though, Lambda thought as he twirled his pen between his fingers, and that was that Bampás was right—he would need to work _far_ harder, from now on. Stealing the occasional furtive glance at Alex's knee bouncing with barely contained excitement under his desk, Lambda clicked the point of his pen out, bent low over his papers, and dutifully began taking notes.


End file.
